


Chosen: A Breath of the Wild Retelling

by writeleighso



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Female Link (Legend of Zelda), Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeleighso/pseuds/writeleighso
Summary: One hundred years has passed since Calamity Ganon returned to Hyrule, held back from devouring everything in his path by Princess Zelda. Only one person can save her and all of Hyrule: Link. The Hero chosen by the Master Sword. After one hundred years in a deep sleep, Link awakens to discover she is still the Chosen Hero but she doesn't remember who she is or why she fights, only that she must. As Link retraces her steps and frees the Champions, Link makes friends. With help from Paya, Sidon, Kass, Riju, and Yunobo, can Link stop Ganon and save Hyrule, this time without dying?(Major elements of the plot are the same, though I've taken many liberties to translate gameplay into storytelling. Also Link is a girl.)
Relationships: Link/Mipha (Legend of Zelda), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Resurrection

_"Link…_

_Link, Wake up..._

_Link!"_

I jerked awake and coughed, desperate for air. I’d almost drowned once. This felt like that but like being in deeper; like I hadn’t taken a breath in years. I sucked in a deep breath, then rolled onto my side, splashing in a water-like substance. I slipped, sliding down on my face, sloshing the liquid over the low lip containing it. I quickly regained my composure, flipped the rest of the way over so I was face down, pushed myself up with my palms and toes and in a single movement sprang up, over, and out of the pool. I landed in a crouch, flipped my hair out of my eyes and waited, peering into the darkness, for whatever had spoken to move and reveal itself.

This was all familiar. The adrenaline, the motions, the readiness to fight. What wasn’t was why.

The room was dark, lit only by an almost triangular stalactite, etched with runes that glowed with a faint blue light. It hung over the stone bed I’d lept from. The bed too was etched with glowing runes. I recognized one: resurrection. Still crouched, I could feel the floorboards beneath me were warped by time and moisture. The walls were rough, as if hewn out of the bedrock. It seemed like a root cellar.

Without any roots.

Besides the bed, the room was sparsely furnished. There was a glowing dais by the door that matched the bed and stalactite. There was a wooden chair in the corner with a long since abandoned spider web stretching from the wall to its back. The cushion on it was caked with a layer of dust so thick I could see it clearly from across the room. Beside that there was a pair of low cut leather lace up boots and a wooden chest. On the chest, and very out of place, was a fresh apple. My stomach growled. The room was clear, the door across from me sealed. I stood and practically pounced on the apple, devouring it. I wished there was another. I was hungry.

A draft reminded me I was also wet and naked. I opened the chest. With delight I saw it held everything I needed: a rough cloth to dry with, undergarments, brown pants, a loose fitting, undyed cotton tunic, a short length of twine to tie back my hair, and two leather straps, one to hold equipment like a quiver and sword on my back and the other odd, with a square holster for some unknown object. I dried and dressed. It was time to leave. I almost walked past the dais as I left but something made me stop. There was a device in the dais. I lifted it out of the nook it rested in. Instantly, the room went dark. The Sheikah Eye illuminated on the front of the device and was the only light in the room.

_"Link, I’m waiting..."_

I slammed the door open so hard it hit the wall and swung back towards me. Without thinking, without having to think, I defended myself from its attack, reacting faster than realizing. It was only after the second time it rebounded towards me that a swinging door registered as a door and not a threat. The device from the dais chirped at me from the floor; I’d dropped it in the excitement. Sheepishly, I picked it up, dusted it off, and put it in the odd hip holster; it was obvious now that was what it was made for. I was not at the bottom of stairs leading to a root cellar. Instead I was at the end of a low tunnel, its walls rough, its floor unfinished, and its ceiling supported by large wooden beams. In one place the ceiling had given way, partially blocking the exit. Beyond this was bright light, obscured partially by a curtain or drape. I made my way towards it, scrambling up over the cave-in debris, through a puddle I didn’t notice that soaked cold water through my shoes, and to the exit. It wasn’t a curtain blocking the light but overgrown brush and vines. I peeked through.

There was a large rock, almost like a pillar, a few trees and bushes, and a lush carpet of dew soaked grass. Beyond that was blue sky, empty except a few birds. Probably safe. And anyway there wasn’t any more food in the cave. I stepped outside and, overtaken by the warm sun and a rush of longing, walked then jogged then sprinted across the grass to a small rise in the ground. I was on the edge of a cliff, below about fifteen meters, a forest grew, unbothered by my sudden appearance. Beyond the forest, low slung battlements. And beyond that, Hyrule. Hyrule field. Farmland. The walls of the great castle town. And, at the very center, the castle itself.

All in ruin.

“Not what you expected, eh?”

I spun around, careful not to slip in the dew damp grass. There was a man a little over a meter away. He was older than me but not an old man, though his beard had started to gray. His face was mostly obscured by a thick hood, but he might have been smiling. He was muscular and had the stance of a fighter, someone ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. And he carried a long walking stick with a lantern at the top. It flickered, quickly becoming redundant in the early morning light. I hadn’t seen him arrive; he could only be a threat if he’d snuck up on me.

I took a half second to take in my surroundings. The cliff behind me was not ideal to be pinned against. It was a straight drop to the forest below. The open ground was not ideal either. The cave I’d emerged from was almost entirely obscured by the foliage, hidden in plain sight. There was a bright orange butterfly, calmly flying by. And by my left foot a stick, perhaps two centimeters in diameter and a meter long. If it wasn’t too dry, it’d do the trick. I stuck the toe of my boot under the stick, kicked it up in the air, caught it, and swung.

It met, with a loud thwack, the metal of a lantern rod. The lantern at its end rattled.

“You never do give it a whole second of thought, do you?” The man said, amused. With a casual thrust, he knocked my stick away. He chuckled and turned and started down a trail that led down a much less steep side of the cliff to the forest below.

I stood panting, confused. What had just happened?

“Well, come on, Link,” he said, without looking back. I tighten my grip on the stick. “You can swing sticks around all day but I thought you might like some breakfast.” My stomach growled and I gave in to its demands. But I also brought the stick.

“You were the one who called to me?”

“Hm?”

“When I was... asleep? You said you were waiting. That was you?” I had to admit that the man’s gruff voice was nothing like the deep, melodic whisper I’d heard before but who else could have it been?

“You heard a voice?” the man asked instead of answering.

“Yes, but if it wasn’t you,” I trailed off. “I was sleeping, it must have been a dream.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said. His words did not comfort me.

I changed the subject, “Where are we?”

“The Hylian Plateau. This is the birthplace of Hyrule, you know. They say it is haunted… And here we are. It isn’t much, but it’s home.” We’d come to a camp just off the trail. It was a small flat spot with an overhang from the cliff wall. Combined with a simple canvas lean-to, it would provide shelter from the elements. There was evidence of a rough sleeping area: straw and a blanket. And a small campfire, encircled with apples baking in the heat. They smelled phenomenal.

“Take as many as you’d like,” he offered. And just a little too late, “Careful, they’re hot.” I had to drop my stick to juggle the apple in the air until it cooled.

“Still think with your stomach, too,” he said with a chuckle. “At least that much hasn’t changed.” He sat down and produced honeycomb, a knife and a rough, wooden bowl from his pack. Much more gingerly than I had, he took an apple, cut the meat off into the bowl, and cut a generous piece of honeycomb on top to sweeten the snack. My mouth watered. He handed the bowl and the knife to me. I sank to a semi crouched seat and dug in. After a few more apples had quieted my stomach we sat in silence for a while, he just watched me. His posture was rigid, even when he was relaxed. He kept his lantern within easy reach and positioned himself in the lean-to where he could keep an eye on the canvas flap and the world outside. He was definitely a fighter. But even though his expression was serious, there was a light in his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, Link.” I looked away, uncomfortable. I’d never seen him before. “You don’t remember me. That’s fine. That’s what they said might happen, that if you didn’t die, you could forget everything. You know how to walk and talk, so we’ll count that as a win.”

“What happened?” It was something I knew I’d have to ask. I’d seen Hyrule. I might not remember exactly what it was supposed to look like, but ravaged couldn’t be right.

“You saw?” He asked, gauging my level of recognition, “The devastation, the darkness around the castle?” I nodded. “The Calamity. Ganon, evil of ages past, reappeared and attacked. We’d prepared, we knew he’d come back eventually. But we didn’t know he’d return so soon. Or that the Champions, one from each of the six races, would be lost…”

“Lost?”

“Killed. They were all killed, Link. They didn’t wander off the trail to pick mushrooms on the way to the battle!” He was suddenly exasperated. “I’m sorry. They were good men and women. Ganon, he outsmarted us. So many gave their lives to stop him. I still get upset about it.”

“I’m sorry.” So he was a soldier. The way his face darkened, thinking of the past; it was a look that said he had killed before and watched his friends die at his side before.

“Our Guardians turned against us, the Divine Beasts murdered our Champions, and Ganon decimated soldiers and civilians alike. And then we lost you, too.”

“Me? I…? What happened?”

“Tell me this,” he deflected, “Where are you? What is this place?”

“The Hylian Plateau,” I said, but not because I recognized it but because he’d already told me. All of this, everything he was telling me, it felt like a dream that I couldn’t quite recall.

“This is the most holy place in all of Hyrule. No evil can climb it’s steep walls. The Goddesses lifted it from the valley floor as the final resting place for the spirits of the Heroes. It is here, and only here, that the living might outrun their fates and the dying might escape death.”

“Resurrection.” The runes made sense now. At least, their intention was clear.

He nodded. “It was only ever a guess, only ever a desperate hope that we might save you.”

“For what?” I asked. He stared at me and didn’t answer, knowing I’d figure it out: To save Hyrule. But I saw Hyrule, it was in ruin, what could I do? And I’m just one person. How could I possibly save everyone? I took a deep breath to calm the fear and quiet doubt, “I’m ready. What’s so funny?”

He’d started with a low, rumbling chuckle that became a full laugh. “You would make your father proud. Look at you, you barely remember your own name let alone the kingdom you are ready to fight to save, but you are ready. And with what weapons?” He had to stop talking until his laughter subsided. Finally he wheezed, “A stick? You are going to save all of Hyrule with a stick? Monsters, beware, she has a stick.” He roared with laughter.

Dejected and annoyed I pouted, “Then there is no hope?”

“The Princess is at the castle, she is holding off the darkness, for now.”

“But the darkness is still raging around the castle,” I asked, confused, “Was she successful?

“It is impossible to seal Ganon alone. She is holding the Calamity back, held in stasis, locked in a single, subtle moment of time,” he paused, studied my face and then explained, “She is waiting for the Hylian Champion to return with the sword that seals the darkness.”

I finished his thought, racing ahead and trying to keep up at the same time, “And the sword can only be wielded by the swordsman of its choosing. Until you find them, you cannot aide the princess”

“What? Are you listening at all? Why resurrect you, huh?” He shrugged, “We have our swordsman. It is the sword that is missing.”

I gasped. “And no one is searching for it?!”

“Of course people are searching for it!” He snapped back indignantly. “We are searching. It is a legendary blade, amateur treasure hunters are searching. All in vain. It and it’s location might as well be invisible to them. It will be found when it wants to be found and by who it wants to be found by.” He looked at me pointedly.

“You’re saying… No, that can’t be.” I argued. “I am not, I mean…” I trailed off.

“You understand your role?”


	2. The Master Sword

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be me.

I was the illegitimate daughter of the Hylian ambassador to Zora’s Domain. My father was the general who commanded the training grounds at Fort Hateno. Every soldier, every royal guard, every man and woman who protected Hyrule went through the rigors of his guidance. His wife was the Captain of the Royal Guard. She was a fearsome woman, known for arguing with the king. Together, the couple had five children, three daughters and two sons, my half siblings. And they were all fierce warriors in their own right. My mother, the ambassador, was not a fighter. But what she lacked in muscle tone, she made up for in intelligence. What drew her to my father, I will never understand. What led him to deviate from his wife eludes me more.

I lived with them, with the pack of wolves that were my family and the multitudes of trainees that came and went until I was ten, mostly escaping the strict Fort life by sneaking up the hill into the town proper and to my grandparents’ home. They had horses and goats and cooked good food. But at ten my mother decided she wanted to educate me herself. It meant leaving what had been, if not a perfect home, a happy enough one, for an alien world that was covered in water and inhabited by the amphibious Zora. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t have to train anymore. I spent all my free time chasing frogs and exploring downriver. I got a world class education from Zora royal tutors and my mother, who was intent that I would grow up to be a peacemaker like she was. 

And then, in the middle of the night on my seventeenth birthday I heard it. The voice. It was deep, melodic, and demanded my attention. I thought one of the other children was playing tricks on me. Then I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.

It was patient with my disbelief and understood my fear but quickly became frustrated with my attempts to negotiate or compromise my role.  _ “I have found Chosen Heroes through time immemorial. And yet you doubt my choice. And yet still you do not look for me.” _

“You don’t understand,” I explained desperately, “I am not a hero.”

_ “Link, you are the Chosen Hero who will wield the Master Sword. Now accept that honor with pride. Find me!”  _

“But I don’t even begin to know where to look for you.” It was a lie. I knew exactly where to go. I couldn’t name the place, but I could feel it. The Sword didn’t respond. It didn’t say anything for a long time but its pull got stronger until it made me feel sick with restlessness. 

“I have to go to Hateno,” I announced, several weeks into the Sword’s silent treatment. “I have to see my father.”

“For what purpose?” My mother didn’t agree to anything without a dialogue first.

“Well…” How do you explain to your overly practical mother who hasn’t let you pick up a sword since you were ten that you need help from her estranged lover on a quest to find a legendary blade that calls to you in your dreams because you are the Chosen Hero? “I have been having dreams… About the Calamity.” I explained. 

She waited for me to say more. She had a special talent for combining silence and patience into treaties. It was a talent I had not inherited. “Dreams about Hyrule being attacked and having to fight back. And, and losing.” Dreams could be prophetic. They could also just be dreams. I’d had strange dreams my whole life; memories of things that had never happened to me.

“And you believe these dreams to be a harbinger of something yet to come?” Her tone was even. There was no judgement or disbelief. She was willing to listen to my side of the story, to anyone’s side of the story, as absolute truth given in good faith once. She always caught lies in the retellings and exaggerations. 

“It isn’t just the dreams. I’ve heard a voice. You know of the Master Sword?”

Everyone knew of the Master Sword. She stared at me blankly, “It is lost.”

“I know where it is, it told me.”

“No.” She wasn’t talking to me. She’d gasped the word more than said it, a small chink in her perfect emotional armor. “Link, are you sure?” It was not the answer I was expecting. 

I nodded, “It says I am the Chosen Hero.”

“I see.” She regained her composure. “There hasn’t been a Chosen Hero in generations. And the late Queen had dreams, and now the Princess is having them, too,” My mother said, tone once again flat, emotionless. “We have begun preparing. Researching the ancient technology, training new recruits, and expanding our treaties. There will be a Champion from every race. We assumed the Hero would be Hylian, of course.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, overwhelmed by the information.

“The Calamity is coming.”

“I could be wrong. I might be wrong. Maybe,” I said hopefully, “Maybe I’ve lost my mind and everything is fine and the Calamity isn’t coming.” Stories of the impending Calamity had scared me as a child but I’d always believed them to be stories meant to keep peace between tribes and children honest at bedtime. I never expected adults, especially level headed ones like my mother, to believe it was real.

“I never wanted anything for you but a happy, peaceful life. It seems that Hylia has other plans.”


	3. Authenticated

“You are just mentioning this now!” I screamed. I was furious and more than that I was heartbroken.

“Again, Link. Pick up your weapon and come at me again.” We’d spent three weeks now together. Preparing for the trip off the Plateau. Gathering supplies, foraging for food, relearning how to cook, how light a fire and, most of all, how to fight. My body remembered most physical tasks: swimming, scaling steep walls, and how to handle a sword or fire an arrow with accuracy. But I was weakened. The man, I learned he was called Teno, insisted we train every day. I was anxious to leave, to find the Sword, the old pull was in my bones again, it wanted to be reunited.

And the Princess was still alone and waiting for reinforcement. She needed me.

It was that argument, after failing time and again at a new parry, that he’d said, “You need to take the time to be prepared.”

“We don’t have time! Princess Zelda needs me. Hyrule needs me. Do you doubt that I can do this?” I demanded, angry. 

“After one hundred years, Zelda can hold Ganon for a few more weeks. Now come at me!” Teno demanded.

I dropped the practice sword. “What? A hundred years? I was asleep for a hundred years!”

“Which is why we have time to fully prepare you. You cannot fail. She won’t be able to contain him for another century.”

“You are just mentioning this now!” I screamed. It felt like a deep betrayal. And an answer to a nagging feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. Most of all, it hurt.

“Again, Link. Pick up your weapon and come at me again.”

“No. No!” I yelped when Teno’s staff struck me hard against the shoulders. He swung again and this time I ducked but he advanced toward me, pushing me further and further back. I was now out of reach of my sword and getting dangerously close to being backed into a corner.

We practiced in an ancient and decaying courtyard. It was large with a fountain that still bubbled clean water in the center. Walls, crumbling with age, surrounded the courtyard on three sides, the final side was open to what was now a meadow.

I felt the rough stones catch on my shirt. Teno was on top of me now, still on the offensive. I waited until he was about to swing then ducked and skirted under his arms. Teno’s staff clattered against the masonry. Before he adjusted his stance to attack again, I turned and jumped up the wall. My fingers and toes easily found holds and before he could land another blow, I scampered over the wall and out of reach. He’d come after me, but I might get some time away, to process the information. There was a large tree not far from the courtyard, I could hide there.

As I often did when Teno let me rest, I held the Sheikah Slate. I’d learned that was what the device I’d found when I woke up was called. It was so familiar and yet so foreign. I traced the design on the back for the millionth time. It was silent, the screen dark only reflecting my own image back at me. Bright blue eyes brimmed with tears and messy blonde hair, escaping from a messy ponytail. That was the face of the Chosen Hero? I looked closer, trying to make sense of long-healed scars and the furrow in my brow. Did I have my mother’s nose and my father’s eyes? I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember. A hundred years was a long time to be asleep.

I was still glaring at the mirror-like screen intently and almost fell out of the tree with a start when it chirped at me and displayed: New Location Identified. in bright blue letters across the usually blank face. When I lifted it up the message disappeared, replaced by a map with a yellow beacon, directing me toward… something. There wasn’t much detail on the map, in fact I was only guessing that it was a map. Other than the yellow dot, there were no features or markings.

Except a second dot, a blue dot. It blinked as though it wasn’t a set location. Curious, I jumped down and, using the Sheikah Slate as a guide, walked in the direction I thought the yellow dot was.

The blue dot moved in the same direction. 

Excited, I picked up speed until I was running towards the yellow dot, stumbling over obstacles I couldn’t see beneath my feet. About a kilometer from the tree, the two dots met. 

I looked up. I was standing by a rock formation. The ground here was otherwise flat but for some reason there was a pile of rocks. There was a depression beneath them and what looked like a tunnel or arch. I hopped down and saw it: the dais. It was just like the one from the Cave of Resurrection except it glowed orange instead of blue.

I jogged to it and clicked the Sheikah Slate into place. The dais took it, spun it around, and locked it in. 

The screen flashed: Sheikah Slate Authenticated. 

Then: Tower Activated. 

And lastly: Please Watch For Falling Rocks. 

The ground rumbled. And shook. And with a jerk that sent me sprawling to the floor, launched into the air. I waited, flat on my back, until the shaking stopped. Above me in the dais, the Sheikah Slate chirped and I cautiously got up to inspect it: Distilling Regional Information. 

The dais was lit in blue now. It spun the Slate back out and displayed the map, now fully populated. The courtyard where we trained had a name, so did the woods and hills around us. The falling down cathedral, the largest structure on the plateau, was labeled Temple of Time.

“So you don’t wear the Slate just for decoration after all.”

I jumped. I was one hundred meters up on a tower that had erupted from the earth just moments ago and somehow Teno was there too. “Teno, where did you come from?”

Teno ignored me. “Now we can get to work. Look over there,” he pointed towards a structure back near the courtyard. “It started glowing when you activated the tower. Seems likely to be connected.” I lifted an eyebrow at him, knowing that he phrased things this way when he wanted to only tell me exactly as much as I needed to know and let me learn the rest on my own. “They say they are shrines that only the Chosen Hero can enter. They are to test your mettle and prepare you to battle Ganon.”

“Then I will visit the shrines.”

“But I thought you were in such a hurry to save the Princess,” Teno taunted. “Perhaps you don’t realize there are a dozen of them spread across Hyrule, with puzzles, riddles, feats of strength, and challenges concocted to test and prepare you.”

“I am in a hurry. But if the Goddess put these shrines here to prepare me to protect Hyrule…” I trailed off. It wasn’t that I wasn’t willing to fulfill my duty. It was just such a vast task and I didn’t know where to begin. Endless hours of training from Teno felt like a waste of time, but who was I to argue with Hylia?

“Excellent!” Teno exclaimed. “There are four on the Plateau. Survive each one and maybe then you will be ready to leave this safe place.”

“Bar’s pretty low, huh?” I muttered under my voice. 

“Link, speak up or don’t speak at all.” Teno said things like this that made me wonder if he knew me before resurrection. He claimed he didn’t. That when he’d greeted me that morning, he’d meant it was good to see me alive again, not that he personally was seeing me again. That he was just testing my memory and he was just a sentry, waiting for me to wake and help guide me back to life. Of course, if I had been asleep for one hundred years, it was likely any Hylian I knew, if they had survived the Calamity, would be dead by now anyway. Instead of dwelling on it, I focused on the task ahead of me: the shrines.

Well, the real first task was climbing down the tower. There was an opening that dropped down onto a platform. The tower body didn’t have a ladder but was built out of a latticed metal that was easy to climb and, encircling the tower, about every three meters, was another platform, presumably for resting on when climbing up. I lowered myself onto the top platform then instead of climbing down to the next platform, jumped to it. I landed comfortably. Apparently I had always been fairly nimble. Climbing, jumping, rolling, and generally behaving a bit like a clown felt natural. I jogged the two steps between where I landed and the next edge and jumped again. I didn’t slow down. There was no reason to lose momentum now. I did this for all ten platforms and was back on the ground in a minute. Teno would be climbing down for long enough that I could get to the shine and get in and not have to hear from him about training or the Goddess or anything else.

I’d seen the shrine before. It was more of a lumpy mound about five meters tall. It looked more like a giant oven than a building. It had a dais for the Sheikah Slate but it had been dark. Now the runes on the dais and the shrine glowed orange. There was no slot in this dais like the others, but after a moment of hesitation, simply tapping the slate against the dais for a moment earned a chirp and: Sheikah Slate Authenticated. The door, a series of interlocking stone beams, opened. 


	4. Be the Hero

“Nothing, no response. How interesting. The Slate is functioning perfectly, the Hero has been chosen and yet the Shrines are as cold and dark as they have been for generations,” the Princess observed. She was young, a teenager. Not much younger than I was but her life was a million times different from my own. She’d always known she would be a hero. Her mother had been. Her grandmother had been. Every princess of Hyrule had Hylia’s blessing. Some said they were the incarnation of Hylia herself.

She had been working her entire life to live up to those expectations. And she was a genius fascinated by science and technology. It had been in large part her research that explained that the old stories were based on fact and massive, man-made beasts had stood at Hyrule’s defense once. She’d studied with the Sheikah to discover the locations of the lost technology and had been fundamental in restoring their power.

Now she stood by one of the ancient shrines just outside of the Castle Town walls, a mostly forgotten relic marked not just with faded runes but with graffiti. Migo had visited the shrine before the Princess and I had. So had Lilah and Markus, who were very much in love. And someone, who opted to leave their work unsigned, had scrawled a crude interpretation of the male anatomy. 

I watched from a meter away, interested in what the Princess was doing but only passively. She’d braided her long, blonde hair to keep it out of her face, but on such a short journey, she’d stayed in her elaborate blue dress, decorated with gold embellishments and white lace at the neck. By comparison, even dressed in the fine blue and tan uniform marking me as a member of the Royal Guard, I looked out of place. Or maybe I just felt that way. The clothes I was required to wear, that were an honor to wear, I reminded myself, weren’t restricting. In fact they moved well with me and breathed, making fighting that much easier. But they weren’t me.

Before the Master Sword had come into my life, I wore form-fitting clothes made of the gray or silver linens woven by the Zora and meant to keep the body warm in the chilly waters of the rivers and lakes in the mountains and dry quickly when on land. The close fit meant they rarely caused any drag while swimming. Occasionally, I’d wear a light-weight, tunic over the skintight bodysuit, to be more decent, but nothing as formal as the royal uniform.

At the fort, I’d worn training clothes. They were simple and more patches than clothes. They also didn’t feel right, but after years of wearing them, they at least had started to feel normal.

All my clothes had been upgraded to perfectly tailored tunics and matching armor crafted specifically to my measurements and imbued with Great Fairy magic. They were crafted for peak performance, not for personal expression. At least they’d let me keep the blue scale earring I wore in my left ear. It had been a gift and they’d have to cut my ear off before I’d take it out. 

Princess Zelda looked over her shoulder at me and I raised an eyebrow, waiting for instruction. “You try.”

I nodded and stepped forward, taking the Slate from her. I tapped it against the dais by the sealed entrance. Nothing happened. 

“Are you willing it to open?” she demanded to know.

“No, I didn’t realize that was required, Your Highness,” I said. It was supposed to be an apology but came off as brusque.

“Do you just think that when the Calamity comes you can just slash your way through simply because you have a fancy sword?” she retorted. “Try again. Want it.”

“Yes, Princess.” I hadn’t wanted the Sword or the responsibilities it held. It was almost too long to be a one handed sword and was more comfortable sheathed on my back than at my side. It hung there every day, gently pressing between my shoulder blades, always there.

I had expected the training and preparing for battles destined to be hard fought. I’d known there would be oaths of loyalty to the King and to Hyrule. I had even guessed there’d be a uniform, you can’t go saving the world in just any old thing.

I never anticipated the princess. Of course we’d fight side by side to seal the darkness that was Calamity Ganon away. But there was no darkness now. Now there was just the afternoon air, the sullen, mounded shrine, and the impatient princess. 

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and sent up a prayer to Hylia. Then I held the Slate firmly against the dais and wanted.

“Still nothing,” the Princess observed. “How disappointing.”


	5. The First Shrine

The shrine was small, just large enough for one person to step inside. I took a deep breath, hoping these tests weren’t too difficult and hoping I would be able to overcome them. I stepped inside. The floor beneath me shuddered and began to lower me into the shrine.

“The Goddess couldn’t use stairs?” I complained to no one. I suppose that Hylia could probably hear me… But I decided I had enough to worry about to care if they were offended that I didn’t like their architectural preferences. 

The elevator brought me into a wide and open room. It was empty and lit with torches that burned an eerie blue light. I blinked and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. I stepped off the elevator and into the room. 

“Hero chosen by the Goddess Hylia, I present this trial. Complete it and prove your worth,” a disembodied voice announced. Beside the ominous words, still echoing, the room remained empty. 

“Alright…” I muttered, “Now what?” I stepped further into the room, looking for something challenging. There was another dais. Like the Cave of Resurrection and the tower, hanging above it was a rune engraved stalactite. I deposited the Slate in the slot and waited as it authenticated, bracing myself. I only had it for defense. Maybe I should have waited for Teno before running blindly off to the shrine.

The walls lit up, runes that had been too dark to see were now illuminated in the same orange glow as the outside of the shine. It was a story. I recognized the way the ancients started their epic poems: In a time before time…

I was rusty at best when it came to the ancient runic script and this wasn’t the usual dedications to local gods, rituals to honor the dead, and prayers to Hylia. This was complicated. This used runes I’d never seen before. 

The beginning was familiar enough:

_ In a time before time when the stones, waters, and air were first brought into being and the plants, animals, and peoples first awoke, the Goddesses looked at what they had created and were happy. They had made the perfect world. They had made jungles, forests, vast fields, vaster deserts, and mountains that spit fire. They created oceans and lakes and rivers. They had created the sky and the weather and the stars. All for the creatures they had breathed life into to enjoy. _

_ But they also created a challenge: darkness that lurked in the greedy or jealous soul and the pain and anger of a broken heart. If allowed this darkness could spread and grow and become a threat. But all the breathing creatures were granted the wisdom to recognize it, the courage to face it, and the power to defeat it. _

_ They left four light spirits to watch over the land and, to help guide those that would listen, they left their favorite creation and a deity in their own right, Hylia. _

It was the story that was told at festivals and that all Hylian children learned. It was so deep a part of my subconscious, I hadn’t forgotten it. The next section was about Ganon. The Calamity. The ever-coming end of the world. It too was familiar: 

_ And in spite of the gifts of the Goddesses, the protection of the spirits, and the guidance of the Goddess, one gave in to the darkness. And then another and another until, for the first time, monsters roamed the earth, devouring anything in their path. And their leader was called Ganondorf. Time and time again Hylia would guide those who had not succumbed to evil to fight back, leading each race to put their collective power together to slow the evil enough to give the Chosen Hero time to cut down the corporeal incarnation of the evil and to give the Princess of Hyrule the power to seal the tainted soul. _

It was just a story when I was a child. The evil that would rise. The Hero and the Princess that would strike them down. I believed, as my mother had, that the story was told not about coming together to fight an unknown evil, but to unite the races. We were so different, she’d said, we needed something to believe in to bring us together. Those that refused to believe were monsters. Those that followed the light of Hylia bonded together in times of need and traded goods, peoples, and culture in times of peace. 

We had had ten thousand years of peace. The Hylians, the Sheikah, the Zora, the Goron, the Rito, and the Gerudo had lived and prospered for ten thousand years. So long the Master Sword was all but forgotten and the princesses of Hyrule grew up not as religious leaders but political leaders.

Until one hundred years ago.

The last section was new to me. There was a whole section that I could only understand a few words:  _ Hero, prepare, defend, sacrifice.  _

And then:  _ These devout monks gave themselves so that when Hylia’s light fades and Ganon is freed again, the Hero can be taught how to avoid temptations and defend Hyrule. _

“Hero,” the voice said from nowhere, “prepare yourself… For your world shall be turned upside down.” 

“It hasn’t already?” I muttered.

There was a grinding of gears, hidden in the wall. I was across the room following the tale and was far from the elevator and the dais with my slate, still trying to make out the last few words when I realized I was slipping. The floor was perfectly smooth. As, I now realized, were the walls. The runes weren’t carvings but lights contained behind equally smooth walls. The room turned so the far wall was becoming the floor. It was easily twenty-five meters away and not a distance I wanted to drop. I half ran, half slipped to the far side of the room, falling the last three meters and landing hard on my hands and knees. 

I collected myself. I didn’t have time to mind scuffed knees. The room was still turning. And what had been the ceiling was now an impossibly long room quickly becoming a bottomless fall. I hadn’t looked up or thought about the length of time spent on the elevator but that didn’t matter. This was a magical room. It wasn’t going to make sense or follow logic, even if I had checked ahead of time.

Now I had to not fall to my death. I didn’t have many options. But I did have an idea. The dais was out of reach above my head, now mounted on the wall. I only had one shot. I couldn’t remember if I had good aim, but I hoped I did. I took the small pocket knife off my belt and aiming as carefully as I could, threw it at the dais and, more specifically, at the Sheikah Slate.

I did have good aim. And a strong arm. The point of the knife caught in the gap at the base of the Slate, imitating the action of pulling it out by hand. The dais reacted, spinning the Slate out where it and the knife dropped. They both clattered to the floor. The runes went dark and the room shuddered to a stop. I picked up the slate, and put it away after a quick inspection. No damage. I twirled the knife in my hand casually as though this had been my plan all along. The room was pitched down but not so far that I couldn’t walk with relative ease even at the odd angle. Still, I walked slowly to keep my footing. There is no honor in a slow slide to your death. 

On the far side of the room I could see a door had opened. It’s perfect seams had hidden it when the room was right ways up but now gravity had pulled it open. I boosted myself up into the room beyond. The floor here was level. At the end of the hall was a slab table, decorated with hundreds of candles, each flickering with a blue flame. They surrounded the mummy of a Sheikah monk, it’s skin black from the pine eating process of living mummification, their clothes bright white by comparison.

“Hero, you have completed the first trial,” the mummy said, not moving. “With my blessing your resolve against the Calamity will be greater.” The candles flickered and the mummy exhaled, crumpled, and burst into a thousand glittering shards. Those that hit, stung. The room went dark. “Go and bring peace to Hyrule”


	6. The Late Hero

“Good, you’re not dead.”

“It is nice to see you as well, Teno,” I said. I hadn’t actively left the shrine, but was now standing outside it, transported by the monk’s magic.

“And what lesson did you learn?” he asked. He was sitting on the first step of the shrine’s entrance casually tossing an apple in the air and catching it before tossing it again. 

“Not to trust you,” I grumbled.

“Link, please take this seriously.” Then he added, “It’s important.”

I couldn’t help myself and snatched the apple out of the air and snapped, “It’s important? You are telling me it is important? You keep secrets and talk in riddles and clearly have an idea of what is inside these shines and yet you don’t warn me or prepare me? And you think I am the one who doesn’t think this is important. It’s my life on the line!”

“Never leave the Sheikah Slate behind. It is your lifeline.” Teno said, ignoring my rant but standing and taking the apple back, trading it for my training sword. “You would be wise to pay attention to what the Shrine is trying to teach you. Courage alone won’t win the day and I won’t always be here to give you the answer.”

I started to point out that he didn’t answer most of my questions but sighed instead. “Thank you, Teno. Do you know where the other shrines are?”

“The sun is setting, I imagine they all glow orange and would be quite easy to see in the dark from a high place,” Teno answered.

“You want me to climb back to the top of the tower,” I said, defeated.

“I wanted you to wait for me at the top of the tower but you climbed down like a wild monkey before I could get another word in,” Teno said flatly.

“Teno, have you ever seen a monkey that wasn’t wild?”

“You can overlay the viewfinder on the Slate with the map to mark the shrines off. There are three more on the Plateau, you should be able to see them from the tower,” Teno said, ignoring my wit as usual. “And when you have found them all, perhaps consider returning to camp to get some rest and gear up before charging into your next misadventure.”

“See you soon, Teno,” I answered. 

“Link,” Teno called after me. I turned and he tossed me the apple and a piece of hard bread. I had to stuff the training sword under my arm to catch them, one in each hand. I couldn’t tell if this was kindness or more training. I nodded my appreciation, awkwardly tucked the food in a hip pocket attached to my belt and hooked the sword on the other side.

I didn’t run back to the tower and only walked quickly until I was fairly confident I was out of Teno’s sight. Then I meandered. The Plateau was beautiful and I was feeling overwhelmed. Besides, it was easily two hours until it was dark and there was no point to be up in the tower before then. 

I tried to focus on the light breeze and the birds singing and how intricate the ruins here were. There were tile frescos that decorated long forgotten floors with big white flowers pushing up through cracks. A butterfly flew by casually.

I had almost died.

I had almost died and now I was merrily heading off to my next task. My knees ached and were already bruising. I had almost died and based on the scars that criss crossed my body, this latest incident was nothing. I wondered if forgetting was the curse Teno seemed to think it was or if it was actually a blessing. I stopped myself. I was lucky today, only almost dying. One hundred years ago, that luck had run out.

I sank to the ground and sobbed. I wondered if the Heroes of the past sobbed or if they were as stoic and silent as the stories told. I wondered if I sobbed before, one hundred years ago. Teno didn’t have time for emotions. He was too focused on training. Problems were solved with more training.

After a few minutes, I caught my breath. There was a stream nearby and I walked along an animal trail through a wooded area to it and splashed water on my face. It was freezing but refreshing. I took a moment to enjoy the sounds of the water and watch bubbles, turned up by a rock, float by. 

And then, because I was the Hero and I had to, I continued to the tower. It was a long climb but not a particularly difficult one. I reached the top in time to watch the sun set over Hyrule. I watched as the world got dark and lamps in far away towns were lit. I ate the apple and bread. And then I looked back across the plateau for the shrines.

The one I’d visited earlier was now blue, rather than orange. But, like distant bonfires, others glowed bright orange. I lifted the Sheikah Slate to my face. Teno had indicated that this would open the viewfinder. The screen came to life, opening the map and overlaying the real world. By poking the screen where I saw the shrine, an orange marker appeared. One was high in the mountains, partially obscured by a snow drift, one was on a cliff behind the Temple of Time, and the last was low on the plateau, in the ruins of a fort Teno had warned me against. The warding that protected the area from monsters was weak there.

I climbed down and returned to camp. Teno was reading. He didn’t look up when I arrived. “Teno?”

“I see you.”

“I found the shines.”

He frowned but still didn’t look up, “What are you telling me for? You’re the Hero, not me.”

“You know more about the Slate than you have told me. And the shrines. And what happened. So tell me,” I demanded.

Slowly he looked up at me. “Link, you realize that I could tell you everything and you still wouldn’t understand? Not everything can be so easily explained.”

“Some things could be explained,” I argued. “Why are the shines suddenly awake?”

“You remember visiting them before, then” Teno mused. “I don’t know that one though. Perhaps the time wasn’t right.”

“How can you be so casual about this? Am I even the right Hero?” I was exasperated. The Calamity had come and the shines had waited a hundred years to awaken? It didn’t make sense.

“Link, listen to me very carefully,” Teno said, serious and compassionately. “Don’t you think we have asked ourselves the same questions? Don’t you think we raged against this same injustice and cursed Hylia for not delivering on her promise? We did, Link. We all feel how you feel.”

“You have had a hundred years to process. You aren’t responsible for saving the world. You…” I faltered, “You didn’t fail them.” I shuddered, holding back tears. I wasn’t going to cry in front of Teno. “I feel the losses of people I don’t remember. How am I supposed to save people who died so many years ago?”

“You aren’t. And you can’t,” Teno said softly. “You have always been so passionate,” he paused, thinking. “Link, you cannot save those who came before you. But you can save the world. People are rebuilding. Life goes on, no matter how hard it is to accept. But the Calamity is still trying to destroy us all. That is where you come in. You save those that were left behind.”

“Okay,” I said. I wanted to go to the shrines now, fight my way through them now and at least feel useful. 

“Get some sleep, tomorrow we will visit the remaining shrines.”


	7. Rise and Shrine

Teno did not believe in sleeping in. He woke me early the next morning, the sun only just starting to peek over the horizon. 

“I took the liberty to inspect where those shines are, seeing as I have a better memory of the area,” Teno said. I couldn’t tell if that was a joke. It wasn’t funny if it was. “We should start at the one on the peak and work our way back down.”

It took the whole day to hike through the forest and up the base of the mountain, even at Teno’s grueling pace. Once we reached the tree line, we stopped. It was chilly up here and it was only going to get colder. The top of the mountain was snowy year round. Teno was certain there was a small hut near where he thought the shine was but hadn’t explored in many years. We had no way to know what kind of condition the structure would be in or how well it would protect us from the elements. 

On the second day, we made the final ascent, first adding layers of clothing then stripping them off as the exertion made the cold a relief. Still, we made good time and reached a lake, partially frozen, and found the hut. The roof was half collapsed but it would be better than camping outside in the cold. I gathered wood for a fire while Teno made the hut more secure. It was threatening to snow.

We hunkered down for the evening, sitting by a small fire in the hearth, packing and repacking supplies. Neither of us was really sure what I’d need. The shrine wasn’t far from here. But while it had been easy to spot from the tower, the route we’d originally thought we’d take was blocked by snowfall and debris, and the narrow bridge that brought you to the peak had collapsed some years ago.

I studied the map on the Slate. It was incredibly detailed and allowed me to manipulate the view and examine possible routes far better than any paper map ever could. “Look,” I said, passing the Slate to Teno. “There might be a way through there.”

“That is risky,” Teno observed. He wasn’t wrong. The path skirted around the lake, down a chasm, and then, and this was the piece I was looking forward to the least, through a drainage tunnel that looked like it would be at least partially submerged. Assuming I didn’t freeze or drown, there was a steep climb on the other side and a nearly two meter jump with a potential ten meter drop blocking my way to the shrine.

“You understand you will need to remove your clothing to go through this tunnel? And that it will be critical that you dry off and warm up on the other side as quickly as possible but that you must resist the urge to dress before you are dry?” Teno asked. He clearly didn’t like this plan.

I nodded. “I plan to light a fire on the other side. I’ll bring wood and kindling in case it is bare. With my camp tarp, I can hopefully keep my clothing dry in transit and can then dry off after.” I didn’t like this plan either, but I didn’t see another way.

The next morning I went out alone. Teno had agreed that he would only follow if I didn’t return by sundown, no point risking both of our lives. I left, my pack light and as narrowly packed as possible. Working my way around the lake was the easy part. I reached the chasm in twenty minutes and, after inspecting my options, slid down into it. It was colder here in the shade, but the wind was gone. I tested each step, concerned that the floor would give out under me. Snow chasms were almost never as shallow as they first appeared. It took much longer than I’d hoped to reach the beginning of the tunnel. The chasm gave way to a rocky crag. Water seeped out of the walls, freezing in long icicles and dripping on to the floor. The tunnel was built and stabilized with brick, but was old. It looked clear of debris and was only partially flooded from this end but I had no idea what I might encounter as I made my way through.

I took off my pack and set it on a dry spot on the floor. I had gone back and forth about whether or not to remove my boots. I didn’t want to and figured they’d be damp from the snow anyway, but Teno seemed to think it’d be better to take them off and keep them damp instead of soaked through.

Quickly I completely undressed and, after wrapping all my clothing, including my boots, up tightly, packed them in the middle of the pack. Carefully, so as to stay as dry as possible, I wrapped everything with the tarp. I was already shivering and I hadn’t even entered the water yet. I put my pack on, it rubbed uncomfortably against my bare skin. 

Then, dreading every minute of it, I crawled into the tunnel. Icy water sloshed around my knees, calves, and wrists. It was so cold it stung. I sucked in a breath in shock. Now was not the time to stop. I crawled forward as fast as I could without splashing.

The water came up to my thighs and over my elbows but, with the exit in sight, it didn’t appear that I’d have to do any actual swimming. I let out a chattering sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

I reached the end of the tunnel. The area beyond, which I’d assumed was a drainage ditch, was more of a basin. It was at least a meter deep, hopefully not much more. There was no ledge that I might use to creep along the wall and avoid the water. The bricks had nice grooves between them, but my fingers and toes were so cold I couldn’t feel them. There was no way I could climb around the basin now. 

Cautiously, I leaned out of the tunnel and moved my pack from my back to hold it up above my lap. Then, slowly, I sat down with a cringe and rotated my legs around and into the pool. Before I could think better of it, I scooted off the ledge, lifting my pack over my head in the process. 

It was deeper than a meter. I dropped down and found my footing with the water up to my chin. I jumped and gasped, feeling the sting of the icy water. I was instantly shaking and panicked. The cold was like a vice and I couldn’t breathe. I sucked in quick, short breaths, desperate for warmth. Finally, after what was mere seconds but felt like a lifetime, I remembered how to move and hurried towards the edge of the pool. With little care for where I put it, I dumped my pack onto the edge, mercifully free of snow, and dragged myself out. I was freezing, but the pack was dry. As fast as my frozen fingers would let me, I untied the tarp and wrapped it around my body, too impatient to find the towel. I wanted desperately to put on my clothes and at least not be in the cold naked. I was shaking so badly that I could hardly dry myself. The tarp was not terribly absorbent but it was better than nothing. I got as dry as I could before putting my clothes back on, only finding the towel after I was fully dressed, still somewhat damp. 

I cursed the Goddesses for making snow.

I wanted to continue on as quickly as possible but I needed warm hands to make the climb. I started a fire. And, as the feeling came back to fingers and toes, I snacked. I made a cup of tea, using snow and chamomile flowers. And had some chili bread. We’d found a chili pepper plant growing, oddly, amongst some berries, and baked them into the hard biscuits we ate for more flavor. Teno complained about the lack of spices and creams. He didn’t like the poorly risen, dense breads we made out of wild wheat, water, and yeast cultivated off an orange peel. I didn’t mind it but maybe I didn’t remember what food was supposed to taste like. Teno assured me that I’d always eaten like a goat.

When I was as warm as I was going to be, I repacked. The tarp was mostly dry but stiff with ice crystals. I left it to melt, pinned down by rocks, by the fire. And then I was off.

The drainage system stayed shallow around the side of the hill for a bit, then ended abruptly at the base of the building ruins. At one point, this probably connected to kitchens or baths where used water was disposed of. Runoff from the roof probably ran through these gutters too. Thankfully, the old wall was brick and pockmarked by age and weather with hand and footholds, making for ideal climbing. I shimmied up the wall. It was damp and slick with ice, but not difficult.

I pulled myself up over the ledge, trying to stay out of an icy puddle. Up on the ledge I was unprotected from the wind. It cut through my clothes and painfully proved Teno’s point about needing to be fully dry. I shivered and continued. I knew from the map that the ledge dropped away and I’d have to inch along the narrow lip, all that was left after a cave in, before reaching a wider place, once connected by a wall, that I’d have to jump. Then all that was left was whatever awaited me in the shrine. I tried not to think about the trial ahead. 

It was actually, except at one point where the wall had completely crumbled away, a fairly wide lip. The jump too didn’t look nearly as long as I’d worried. There was plenty of crumbly masonry to catch myself on in case I missed the top. I chucked my pack across the gap and then I jumped.

I missed the top lip by much more than I’d anticipated and landed hard against the wall. I sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the pain in my knee, the ripped pant leg, and the blood that quickly bloomed against the fabric. I scuttled, more like a beetle than the graceful, catlike climber I thought of myself, up and onto the ledge. I checked my knee to make sure it didn’t need immediate attention. While it was a good gash and a bit deeper than ideal, it could wait until at least after I was out of the wind.

I limped down to the shrine. Compared to the walls and ruins containing it, it seems untouched by time. The midday sun shone off the smooth outer walls and the ruins glowed brightly. I retrieved the Sheikah Slate from my belt, held it to the dais for authentication, and gratefully stepped inside and out of the elements.

The elevator again descended and again I was greeted with an open, empty room. This one held no secondary dais. Just a door with the key already in the lock. It could be a trap. I sent up a silent prayer that it was just a door.

The room on the other side was cozy and wonderfully warm. It was unfurnished, but the walls were decorated with runes for a good afterlife. And in the middle of the room, surrounded the same blue candles as the last one, was a mummified monk.

“Hero chosen by the Goddess Hylia, you have done well to make it to this place,” a voice I could only assume was the monk said. “Your resilience and determination have proven your worth. But know this, not all in the sangha are as willing to believe you are the embodiment of the Hero of Legend. They will test your skills, resourcefulness, and faith. Do not give up. Do not die. You must save Hyrule. Step closer that I might give you my blessing.”

I braced, waiting for the room to shatter around me, but instead there was a warmth that surrounded me. “Go and bring peace to Hyrule..." I felt at ease for the first time since I’d awoken. The feeling only lasted a moment and then I was back out in the biting wind.


	8. Lost

After returning from the mountain, we spent several days in camp recuperating and preparing. The monk had healed my injuries but the climb back down had been exhausting. Spending time in the last throes of summer was pleasant. And as much as I wanted to save Hyrule, each shrine was exhausting and again I was going to have to face whatever the monk threw at me alone. There was no way Teno could climb up to where the next shine waited. And, even though I was a good climber, having someone on the ground tied to the other end of a rope was comforting. 

We’d climbed up early on to set ropes and examine the shrine. By climbing up and shouting down what runes I couldn’t understand on my own, we’d guessed that the shine would be some kind of labyrinth. I did not know how challenging it would be or if it would contain traps. I did not know how long it would take to navigate. All I knew was that people went mad in mazes.

And that I was struggling as it was. I had dreams that might be memories and flashbacks to things that may have happened. I was not eager to spend any time alone in a maze.

“Teno, did you know any of the people I knew?” I asked during training. Teno didn’t think idle time was beneficial. 

“That is a stupid question,” Teno said, bluntly. I pouted and nearly caught Teno’s staff across my body. I was getting faster, my reflexes fighting as much as I was, and dodged his attack and responded with my own.

“Nevermind,” I grumbled. “But I’m done training for today.”

“You are done when I say we are done,” Teno said, each word punctuated with a jab of his staff. I blocked them all and when he finally gave up that approach and swung at me again I dropped my sword and grabbed the staff with both hands. It stung but I ignored the pain and pulled the staff away from him.

I dropped it and let it clatter to the ground. “I said I am done training for today.” Teno watched me. I watched him. Neither of us moved for a moment. I was ready to keep fighting, if that was what he wanted, but I wouldn’t be pulling my punches. I was serious. I was tired. It was frustrating to be the one who didn’t know, who was constantly behind and just trying to keep up.

Teno relaxed his posture, “What do you really want to know, Link?”

“I, well, it’s just that, sometimes...” I trailed off, feeling silly. It has been one hundred years, I reminded myself. There was no way I’d known Teno.

“You think you remember me?” I hadn’t expected him to actually answer my questions nevermind predict them. He’d avoided the subject almost completely since we’d met, focusing instead on teaching me how to fight and to survive.

“Is that possible?” I asked. “You would tell me, right?”

“Your mind is simply clinging to anything familiar. It has been one hundred years. I might be old but I am not that old,” Teno teased.

“Then who are you?” I asked, desperate for some connection to my past.

“I am just a soldier,” he said, offering no other detail.

“It doesn’t make sense. How did you know to find me? Why are you alone? Are the people doing anything to stop the Calamity? Do they just go on as if nothing happened? Have we all forgotten?” I couldn’t stop once I started. There was so much I couldn’t understand. “Has no one tried to save the princess? What of the other races? What of the other Champions? Why am I the only one who has been saved?”

“Enough.” Teno silenced me with a single word. 

“Are they waiting?”

“Who?”

“The people of Hyrule? The six races? Do they know I’m coming back?”

“Link, it’s been a long time.”

“They thought that the heroes were gone. Never to return.” I spoke softly.

“Sometimes when the world ends but you survive, you have to abandon the fight to survive. For so many, simply living is an act of rebellion. Do not be disappointed with the people of Hyrule. They too have suffered great loss.”

“They don’t believe in legends,” I realized. 

“It has not been an easy time,” Teno agreed. 

“What about,” I paused, wondering if I should ask. “I had a family, right? Lots of siblings, I must have relatives?” Teno looked away, then at the ground. “Oh, I see,” I said. They were all dead. My brothers and sisters were all fighters in a war that was lost.

“Enough about the past. It is time to go to the shrine.”

“Now?!” I stammered.

“You are prepared,” Teno pointed out. “You have rations for a week, charcoal sticks to mark your way, and you are the Hero, you were destined to do this.”

“But it is the middle of the day, not really a good time to go, this is a bad idea. Why now, why so suddenly? I don’t think I am ready,” I argued in vain.

I was still trying to talk him out of it when we reached the base of the cliff. It was about twenty meters high but I knew the route. It was easy enough and, with ropes, safe enough. Plus, I didn’t have to carry any gear, we’d hoist it up once I was up top.

In a half an hour I was entering the third shrine. The elevator brought me down to a dimly lit room.

“Hero chosen by the Goddess Hylia, I present this trial. Complete it and prove your worth,” a disembodied voice announced, echoing and bouncing off the countless walls.

The maze was vast, guessing by the height of the ceiling, but walls blocked my view. They were too tall to jump up and too slick to climb. I was going to have to beat this maze on its terms. I wondered if this was one of the monks who didn’t think I was fit to be the Hero. 

The maze was simple enough to start. I had two options: left or right. I went right, marking my decision and direction with a piece of charcoal. Soon, it split off to one side. I could continue going straight or turn. I turned, again marking my path. This went on and on, turn after turn. Until, disappointingly, I made another turn and found a wall marked with charcoal. 

It was my mark. 

I didn’t see the elevator so I wasn’t at the beginning of the maze. I’d found myself returned to some other point in the maze. That was to be expected. I marked the wall and tried a new route, being sure to consider each turn. I didn’t have much information to go on, but I also didn’t see any of my marks. I was making progress,

Until I made a turn, the only option, and found myself back at the place with two marks. I made a third mark and kept going, doubling up on marks sometimes, not other times.

On what felt like the hundreth pass, exhausted from walking for hours, and back at the same point again, I gave up. I made a mark and sat down beneath the various marks, tallies, and smudged handprints. I took an apple out of my pack but didn’t eat it. I looked at the Sheikah Slate. It had been tracking my movements but it didn’t make sense. It showed impossible circles and turns that shouldn’t exist.

I was so focused on the map that I almost didn’t see it skidding towards me. It had poor purchase on the slate floor and it was a slipped metal foot banging against the stone that finally got my attention and alerted me. 

A Guardian. Teno had told me about them. The mechanical monsters we’d built to fight the Calamity but that had turned on us. They had large bodies, like two massive river stones sitting one on top of the other and four long, reticulating legs with claw-like feet. But it was their single eye that you had to be wary of, it shot beams of power that could light a field on fire and rip a body to shreds in a single shot. With speed, precision, and the Goddess on your side, you could stop them with a single, perfectly aimed arrow. If you were very lucky you could reflect the beam off a shined shield or mirror but that was assuming that the beam didn’t blast through and kill you anyway. But mostly you just ran and hoped to survive until it lost interest in you.

I had no arrows and no mirror. I leapt up and ran, abandoning all but Teno’s staff, the Slate, and, because I wasn’t thinking, the apple. If I survived, I could come back for my pack. Based on the pattern so far, it was almost unthinkable that I wouldn’t return. I ran, skittering down the corridor, sliding around the corner, and kicking off the wall. I could hear the monster coming after me. It had seen me and it was in pursuit. 

Three turns and a straightaway later I hit a dead end. I tried desperately to climb the wall but the surface was too slick. I gave up and took off back the way I’d come, glancing left and right in the hopes that I’d find a turn, any turn, and an escape. 

The Guardian came around the last corner. It was only twenty meters away and massive. I was cut off. I stopped and took a few steps back. It kept coming closer. I could hear the high pitched whir of its beam powering up. It was a nightmare sound that had woken me from my sleep countless nights, but it wasn’t until now that I realized what it was from.

Apparently, this was one of the monks that didn’t like me. I wasn’t about to die in a maze because a dead monk was cranky about the Goddess’s choice. I didn’t volunteer. I didn’t ask for this. I was supposed to be dead, too. But if they were going to go through all the trouble of bringing me back to life, of making me the Hero, there was absolutely no way I was going to get killed now.

I brought my arm back and threw the apple with all my might at the Guardian. No one had ever killed one of the beasts with a piece of fruit, but then no one had tried. The apple sped right at the Guardian’s eye, its weak point, then sailed through the monster all together. It bounced, with a thud, down the hall.

“Link, run!” A woman shrieked. Not a woman, a girl. Younger than me, with the responsibility of saving the world on her shoulders. “I can’t watch you die again!”

Her voice didn’t echo. My steps echoed. My scream when I saw the Guardian, my cries of frustration, and even my whistling to keep the boredom away, all echoed. The Guardian kept walking towards me, each foot scraping and clanging against the stone.

And not echoing.

It wasn’t real. I stood still, panting, still not totally believing it, and it passed through me. Was I hallucinating?

Or maybe I’d misjudged this monk. I pulled out the Sheikah Slate and looked at my path. It showed that I’d covered kilometers as I tried and tried again to find the exit. And all routes led back to one place. Maybe I hadn’t looked close enough.

I retraced my steps and looked at the place where I’d marked, over a dozen times now, that I’d passed by. After gathering my things, I knocked on the wall, knocking every few centimeters until, instead of rapping against the stone, my hand slipped through.

The wall was an illusion. I’d solved the maze multiple times without realizing it. I walked through.

The monk’s chamber was like the two before it, glowing with hundreds of blue flame candles, and in the center, the mummified monk, sitting for eternity. “Link, you saw through my tricks.” The monk sounded amused and almost pleased. “What seems obvious to the eye is not always as it appears. Question everything, look beyond what you see. Then, perhaps, you can bring peace to Hyrule.”

I didn’t get a warning besides a weak laugh before the monk burst, the laughter echoing, and the blue shards of light exploded outward, the room went dark and I was back on the cliff.


End file.
